


halfway

by kittenscully



Series: fictober 2020 [11]
Category: The X-Files
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Light Dom/sub, Office Sex, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Season/Series 07
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:48:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26956843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittenscully/pseuds/kittenscully
Summary: She hasn’t been good, for her part. Not even remotely. But oh, she’s going to be.[fictober day 11]
Relationships: Fox Mulder/Dana Scully
Series: fictober 2020 [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1949467
Comments: 4
Kudos: 62





	halfway

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: "Yes I did, and what about it?"

It’s nearly lunchtime when he becomes certain that something is up with Scully.

She’s been fidgeting all day, shifting positions as if she’s got an itch she just can’t scratch. More than a little bit on edge when he asks her case-related questions, seeming utterly uninterested in focusing on work. 

As she stands and moves to look through a filing cabinet beside him, he watches the way she pops her hips from one side to the other. 

“Scully,” he says, a suspicion dawning on him. 

“What, Mulder?”

“You didn’t, by any chance,” he clears his throat. “Leave your panties in my bedroom this morning. Did you?”

There’s a pause, Scully’s movements stilling. Then, she slides the filing cabinet shut.

“Yes, I did,” she says. He catches his breath. “And what about it?”

She supposedly doesn’t want their relationship to get in the way of their work, not even now that they’ve loosened their restriction surrounding on the clock sex. 

And oh, he’s been so good. Good enough for Christmas. Forcing away thoughts of her cuffing and riding him in his chair with a mocking tilt to her lips before they’re even fully formed, ignoring the nagging memories of her bent over the desk, well-spanked and squirming for more. 

But as she turns to head back to her area, Mulder can’t help himself. It isn’t his fault that she’s moved herself within arm’s reach, wearing nothing under that skirt save her garter belt and thigh highs. 

The little hypocrite.

“Scully,” he says, and catches her with a palm on her abdomen. “Where do you think you’re going?”

Pulls her backwards towards him, scoots his chair away from the desk to position her between himself and the work he’d been trying, very diligently, to do. 

“To finish up this research before lunch.” She sounds as if she’s trying to suppress laughter. Such a terrible liar, his Scully. 

With her closer to him, his hands framing her hips, the tang of her arousal in the air is undeniable. And what does she expect from him, tempting him with the one thing he wants too much to ever deny himself the pleasure?

He spares only a single glance at her face, pink cheeks and a smile that knows exactly what it’s done. 

Then, he starts working her skirt up, her pearly skin soft and alluring above her stockings. Once it’s over her hips, he nudges her towards the desk, and he doesn’t even have to ask before she’s hopping up onto it. 

She hasn’t been good, for her part. Not even remotely. But oh, she’s going to be. 

“‘S this what you wanted all along?” he asks hoarsely, one hand rubbing at his stiffening cock and the other wrapped around her thighs as she unclips her garters. 

“I don’t know what you mean,” she says, kicking off her shoes and reclining back with her palms on his desk. 

“I should make you suck me off instead,” he tells her, head spinning as he inhales the scent of her again. “Let you touch yourself while I fuck your throat.”

He wouldn’t say it, if Scully didn’t like him a little mean. But she does, and what is he made for if not to please her? 

“If that’s supposed to be a threat, Mulder,” she says, her lip caught between her teeth. “It’s not a very good one.”

 _Fuck._

There’s no conditions to the way that he wants her, no limits or boundaries. He’d take her any way she wanted, would be rock hard no matter what she asked him to do. His solid, unrelenting sureness of this fact almost scares him. 

His hands delve between her knees, spreading them, and she’s all too happy to help, resting her feet on the armrests of his chair. 

The sight of her alone, spread out and glorious, flushed and plump with desire, is enough to make saliva fill his mouth, saturate his tongue. The mess of reddened curls, the slick sheen on her silken thighs. The humid center of her, folding open like a flower.

Maybe she’d meant the mood to be light and fun this time, but every time he has her at eye level, he’s reduced to a zealot. An acolyte, robed and bowed in servitude. A slack-jawed, wide-eyed martyr, guts spilling on the floor, the keys to Heaven within reach. 

And when she wants him to, he makes himself her conqueror. But any conceptions of himself as in control, as dominant, are nothing more than make believe. 

“Mulder,” she murmurs, saccharine and warm. Her fingers are sliding through his hair, petting him gently, and he can’t look away from her cunt. “We haven’t got all day.”

She’s probably right, but what is time when compared to this bone-deep, tidal pull of her, the thick salt of her on his tongue? 

“Gimme a second,” Mulder says. Draws his thumbs through the damp curls, watches the slick between her lips well up and spill over. 

“I’ve been giving you a second all morning,” she nearly whines, spreading herself wider and tugging gently on his hair. “Waiting for you to notice.”

It’s the edge of urgency in her voice that finally drives him to action. He throbs in his slacks, savors the luscious moan that tears from her throat when he covers her with his mouth, rolls her clit along his tongue. 

She’s impatient, palming the back of his head and rocking herself desperately against him. Vaguely, he’s aware of her telling him again that they don’t have all day, that they’re not really in private.

“The door isn’t even locked,” she pants as he laps at her, catching trails of sticky wetness before she can drip on his desk. 

He doesn’t have the capacity to reply out loud, too drunk on the living, drowning heat of her under his mouth. But he wraps his hands firmly around her thighs to keep her still, and doesn’t increase his pace, and Scully seems to get the picture, a groan of frustration leaving her lips before she releases his hair and relaxes. 

Humming his appreciation, he slides his tongue as far inside as he can get it. Reaches around to toy with her clit, pressing and circling in pulses, listening to her gasps, her soft, decadent moans. 

Infatuation isn’t the wrong word for what he feels for her, for this, but it isn’t the right one, either. He cycles through synonyms in the back of his mind, brings her to her first climax with _obsession_ bouncing around in his skull and her sensitive bundle of nerves pinched roughly between his thumb and forefinger. 

“Mulder,” she gasps, wincing and oversensitive as he kisses her clit instead of letting up. “ _Mmm_ , I need – I can’t –”

She wriggles in his hold, her entrance fluttering with aftershocks. And it’s only the taste of her that makes him selfish enough to ignore her protests. He sinks two fingers inside, curling them to press up, up against that spot that makes her kick and scream when he pets it just right. 

“C’mon, Scully,” he rasps, twisting his wrist so that she arches and cries out. “I’ve behaved. Haven’t tried to fold you over this desk in weeks, have I?”

He looks up, sees her pretty face contorted with an overabundance of pleasure, and then drags his tongue over her again. She’s still struggling weakly, leaving him slick all the way down his palm. 

If she wanted to, she could’ve had him off of her in moments. If it was really too much, she wouldn’t be keeping herself spread open for him, wouldn’t be whimpering like she is.

“I’m not done with you,” he tells her, low and firm. “So you might as well be good for me, baby.” 

He wouldn’t say it, if she didn’t like him a little mean. But she lets out a broken little sob, clenches around his digits, and she does, oh, she does. 

And there it is, her body slackening beautifully for him, giving in to the heightened sensation in a way that he knows she never would with anyone else. High pitched little whines slipping out of her lips as as he sucks her clit into his mouth, reflexive thrusts of her hips as he strokes her deep inside. 

When she comes for the second time, hand slapped over her mouth to muffle the squeal of pleasure, he finally lets up, stroking her thighs gently. Stares at her face, lazy and flushed, lips bitten red, the very picture of hedonism. His cock twitches, and he ignores it, already completely satisfied. 

“You don’t do anything halfway, do you,” she comments breathlessly. 

Mulder shrugs, grins up at her. The affection he feels at the sight of her responding smile is enough to render him temporarily speechless. 

She still smells intoxicating, but it’d hurt her if he tried to lick her clean. So, when he hooks his hands under her thighs and pulls her down into his lap, it’s as much a preventative measure as it is an attempt to get her closer. 

There’s a surprised little laugh as she lands, straddling his thighs, and he tucks his hands under her ass to keep her sensitive core from brushing his slacks. She winds her arms around his neck. He bends to kiss her sweetly. 

“If you wanted halfway, Scully, I’m sure I’d find a way to pull it off.”


End file.
